


Heart of a rebel

by emocsibe



Series: Of rebels and loves [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Feelings, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Not one of the healthiest relationships, Watch out the comfort is hiding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 17:54:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emocsibe/pseuds/emocsibe
Summary: The Empire frowns on human-alien relationships, be they with or without emotions involved, and Kallus frowns upon the Empire. He rebels.





	

Kallus is sure that whatever he and Thrawn share is a plain affair born out of desperation on both ends, with the aim to get rid of the pent up emotions and their unmet needs, and he is also convinced that it could never grow into something more. How could it, he thinks, when he's the traitor the Grand Admiral is looking for, when he's a rebel in his heart, an imperial only on the surface with a newly lit fire gnawing at his chest, waiting, trying to lash out and erase all his mistakes by doing good. He thinks about Lasan and Onderon, and he feels sick. The Grand Admiral enters the room not five minutes after he collects himself and puts on the loyal imperial agent façade, and Thrawn, just as always, greets him with a kiss.

These kisses are no symbols of love or adoration, no, they claim and sign and if Kallus is not sorely mistaken, they hold the importance of grounding Thrawn in the present. He often catches Thrawn looking out of the cabin’s darkened windows after they both gain what they want, and he sees those red eyes gleam with longing – it is, however, not directed at him, no. Thrawn always looks at the stars as if he could see what he wants to, his gaze slipping past Kallus’ neck and unruly hair, past the transparisteel window and past the limitations of the present. Kallus raises a hand sometimes and caresses his face – Thrawn looks so calm, he feels the need to do so. It isn’t the tactically constructed calm he favours, but such a serenity Kallus thinks it a trap the first time it happens. Then he grows to love it. Not Thrawn; he could never love him, but the wonder that is in those eyes, that makes him ache and wish for being able to love the Grand Admiral. He can’t.

Thrawn has a routine which he keeps without a flaw: arriving, greeting his sort-of lover, getting rid of the white uniform, cleaning himself and going to bed. He follows it now just as always, and when he kneels on the bed behind Kallus’ sitting form, he leans forward and places a kiss on his shoulder and embraces him. His chest is moist at places from the droplets falling from his hair, but it doesn’t feel cold against Kallus’s back. Thrawn is warm – and Kallus swallows back a grim smile as he thinks just how cold the Grand Admiral can be and what a nice comparison does this provide. He turns his head and reaches up to pull Thrawn into a kiss, eager for contact and pleasure, for touches that aren’t meant to harm, that give just as much as they take.

He hisses as the lurking pain finds his right leg again when he tries to move, and images of too much snow and icy spikes of hope threaten to overcome his mind, but before it could happen, Thrawn’s eyes flicker down to his leg and Kallus knows that even this little detail is a known one. Thrawn knows the imperial agent that got stuck on a cold moon with his leg broken. He’s lucky that the person called Kallus is still an unknown factor.  

Thrawn slides his hands up and down his leg, fingers finding and massaging the sore muscles which lessens and shoos away the pain. It will be back, just as the images of Thrawn, tenderly trying to help him will haunt him. He likes the cold imperial officer, the Grand Admiral who is set on eliminating the rebellion, but this side of him? The caring and gentle, but luckily rarely showing side of him frightens Kallus. (A small part of his brain or maybe heart or maybe soul seeks it and loves it, but he cannot afford the luxury of listening to these traitorous parts of his traitorous being.) He doesn’t want to think, not about this, so he beckons the chiss closer and closer until they are chest-to-chest, sitting in the middle of the bed, Thrawn naked and beautiful in his lap. He runs his fingers on the smooth, hot skin and loses himself in that scorching stare as he looks at him. The desire - the love - in those eyes takes his breath away and makes his heart jump. He hides it well, but he feels an all-consuming fear bloom inside his chest – even if Thrawn felt something it had to mean nothing for Kallus. It had to mean less than nothing for Fulcrum.

_(He licks and kisses a trail from Thrawn’s chest to his lips, claiming his mouth, taking everything he can and he moans as Thrawn grabs his waist with both hands and grinds their erections together. A blissful feeling shoots through him as he looks at their bodies pressed oh so close together, as he looks at his own pale complex and Thrawn’s blue skin and he finds this mix of colours an absolute thrill.)_

The Empire frowns on human-alien relationships, be they with or without emotions involved, and Kallus frowns upon the Empire. He rebels. He rebels with every kiss on the chiss man's body, rebels with every curse moaned into those broad shoulders, rebels with how he messes up the inky black hair and how he grunts his approval to be dominated. He rebels and the Grand Admiral is oblivious to it. He rebels and the Grand Admiral helps him in doing so. He rebels and the Grand Admiral loves his rebellion.

When they finish and curl up together, Kallus has his back to Thrawn’s chest – he feels the gentle strokes of smooth fingers on his arms and the light, adoring kiss he is given on his neck – and fortunately unseen, his eyes are moist with unshed tears.

 

***

 

When he hears the all too familiar voice recant the rebels’ code phrase, for a passing second he would like to believe that Trawn is with them, too. His heart grabs at the idea and would cradle it close, but Thrawn continues and all hope fades from Kallus’ grasp. He takes in the blue figure in white, glowing red eyes emotionlessly aimed at him, and he wishes he would have been caught by anyone else.

There is a moment when he can’t look up to meet that cold gaze, not after seeing it full with affection and love. He steels himself after that and closes up his emotions, suffocates his own heart and lunges for the device jamming his signal.

They fight and Kallus compares the hits to the old caresses, the snarls to smiles. Thrawn talks, and his voice is like acid, burning a cave between his ribs. Kallus wishes he would shut up, wishes they could be on the same side – but it is no fairy tale, it is real life and they are adults with loyalties laying in different places. Thrawn talks and Kallus attacks and he knows that he can’t possibly win. He has seen the Grand Admiral train, he knows what he is capable of – defeating Kallus wouldn’t even require his full potential, and Kallus is painfully aware of this. He only wants to destroy that damned device.

He doesn’t really hope that throwing the helmet would distract the Grand Admiral but it does, and he sweeps his feet out of him without thinking. The device falls, then cracks under Kallus’ heel.

From that moment on they both know how the fight will end – it is only a question of pride on Kallus’ part. He won’t admit defeat without a fight.

When Thrawn kicks his right knee he buckles, and a horrid pain courses through his leg, but it is nothing compared to the ache that swells in his heart. The pain in his lower leg pulses and he hopes that the unpleasant feeling will help him forget about the time when Thrawn looked at his weakness and wanted to help it. Now this weak spot is nothing more than the core of his too fast defeat. Thrawn has won but he isn’t smiling. He is looking at Kallus – chained and beaten – and his eyes are not entirely cold, no; the love he has developed for the rebel spy, formerly agent of the Empire, is still faintly there and it is making everything worse.

 

***

 

On the Ghost he stands slumped in the corner, the murmur of other people around him sound like a safe constant and not a bother. The blind Jedi thanks him which he returns and after this he is left alone. He closes his eyes and against his better judgement he hopes that Thrawn is alive. He feels tears running down on his face, warm like Thrawn’s touch and bitter like their parting. Before he could swipe them down, someone else does it for him, carefully smearing the drops and streaks away with a fur-coated finger.

He looks up, and meets the gaze of his lasat ex-nemesis, smiling uneasily at him. He tries to offer a somewhat kind smirk in return but he fails. Zeb doesn’t care, though; he pats Kallus on the shoulder and with a soft, rumbling ‘welcome to the crew’, he leaves him alone.

Kallus leans his head back, and with closed eyes, he imagines a blue figure without the white uniform, looking at him with adoring red eyes as if Kallus was his most treasured piece of art. He smiles at the memory and his heart throbs in pain.

He rebels.

**Author's Note:**

> After watching Zero Hour - and seeing Thrawn targeting Kallus' injured leg - I had to write something. It got shippy and full of hurt. I'm not entirely sorry.


End file.
